The doctor drew out the contents hopefully. "Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. “How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre.
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